


Morale, Welfare, and Recreation

by kaasknot



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Armor Kink, Blowjobs, Clonecest, Exhibitionism, Facials, LIMMIE IS SPACE SOCCER I'M SO MAD, M/M, Multi, Snowballing, Threesome, Voyeurism, handjobs, implied rexsoka, officer kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: They always fucking did this. Dropped down next to Rex, no matter what he was doing, and did their damndest to distract him.





	Morale, Welfare, and Recreation

It was an absolute bleeding horror of a choice. The galactic cup semi-finals were broadcasting live from Fwillsving, and while Rex _could_ see the big screen through the door of the junior officers’ bunkroom, he couldn’t use his desk terminal at the same time. Which was a problem, because it was Fondor against Alderaan, second of five, and Rex had a stack of paperwork to get through taller than the _Resolute_ was long.

He tapped his fingers against his datapad and considered his options. He could brave the common room to watch the game, while still getting (some) work done. This had the added advantage of getting him out of the bunkroom: Striker had heated up something he’d found on Ringo Vinda during their last refuel, _seven months ago_ , and now the tiny compartment was jammed tight with two racks, paired lockers and desks, a tiny hotplate apparently for black market civvie rations instead of caf, and a smell like raw farts.

On the other hand, Rex had a separate office for a reason, and that reason was “I’m busy, don’t fuck with me unless you’re dying.” Worse, the odds of him actually getting work done instead of watching the game were, if he was being more honest than he wanted to be, about as good as a snowball surviving summer on Mustafar.

He pushed back his chair and went out into the common room, datapad in hand. It was semi-finals; no one would bother him, if they knew what was good for them.

Torrent’s common room wasn’t much larger than a bunkroom, which was to say, it was plenty large enough for seventy brothers, if they didn’t mind getting cozy. There were two bunkrooms per common, though, so briefings usually involved crawling up your neighbor’s ass to make space.

Now, it was mostly empty. Second shift lunch was underway, and several of Torrent’s sergeants had arranged a surprise combat sim two weeks ago that was finally all systems go. Rex parked himself at the big table in the middle of the room, industriously opened his dropfiles, and signed off on two entire requisition forms--one for sterile gauze, one for boot liners--before a miracle four-beat pass from Fondor dragged his attention back to the game. 

Fuck paperwork, anyway.

It was the fourth quarter, Fondor down one point and stymied by Alderaan’s defense, when Fives and Echo moseyed in. Rex didn’t notice them, at first. Brothers came and went constantly, taking naps, taking showers, taking names in sabacc; their conversations were a low-grade hum in the back of Rex’s mind. Two ARCs descending from SpecOps to rub elbows with the line troops wasn’t even that unusual, if they’d started out Torrent boys: clones were a social lot, and rank only mattered when it mattered. It took Echo slamming Fives down on the table in a clatter of armor for Rex to notice them at all.

“Don’t mind us, sir,” Fives said with a cheeky grin.

Rex gave them his most jaundiced eye. “You’re in the way.”

Thing was, Fives and Echo were a pair of terrors. Had been ever since they’d made ARC. In one sense, that was good: all the better to terrorize the Seppie fucks harassing GAR supply lines. But in their off time, it meant they terrorized Rex, instead.

Like now. Echo had kindly deposited Fives on the table and was kissing him six ways from Primeday. Right in Rex’s view of the screen.

“Move your karking heads,” he snapped.

Echo pried himself off Fives’s mouth. “What, and spoil this choice show we’re giving you, sir?”

“I can watch you chucklefucks eat each other’s faces any damn day of the week, I only see Fondor vs. Alderaan when the Void turns Light. Move.”

“I’m hurt, sir, I really am,” Fives said, complete with kicked mott pup eyes--but Echo was already yanking him out of the way, which rather spoiled the delivery.

Not that it made much of a difference. Rex still couldn't see. He leaned over in his seat--he couldn’t move now, he’d made his stand, and it was the principle of the thing-- _sleenshit_ , Alderaan blocked the goal--

A shivery moan from Fives dragged him away from the travesty occurring six-to-seven hundred thousand lightyears from their position, give or take a little for op security. Echo was doing something to Fives’s neck, gnawing on it, maybe, sucking a hickey to the surface above the line of his blacks, and Fives’s eyes had rolled back, his damp, kiss-swollen lips parted on a silent groan.

They always fucking did this. Dropped down next to Rex, no matter what he was doing, and did their damndest to distract him.

He thought it might be their way of saying thank you. Or something. “Hey, Captain, we’re too chickenshit to _actually_ thank you for giving us this opportunity, but we’re really grateful. Really. Please be our third, which we will also ask for without using our words.” Rex would order them to grow up, but he’d run away from Commander Tano that one time rather than admit he’d gotten hard against her back in a spar, so he didn’t think he had room to judge.

He could usually ignore it, was the thing. Usually they pulled shit in the showers, but anyone with any hope of getting clean before their water ration ran out learned to compartmentalize fast and not pay attention to their brothers’ antics.

Rex was man enough to admit he was more… _restrained_ than most brothers (“uptight, you mean,” Cody had said drily), even after a battle--more interested in getting clean and racking out, and he usually only solicited the tender affections of his own right hand. He could also admit that he took a perverse satisfaction in clapping Fives and Echo on the shoulders after his water shut off and walking away, and never mind their crestfallen expressions. Mostly, he hoped they'd work it out of their systems sooner rather than later, because it was getting less amusing and more irritating as time went on.

This was a first, though. They didn’t usually try anything when his blood was up by virtue of Fondor getting their shebs kicked by fucking _Alderaan_.

“Come on!” he shouted at the screen, as Alderaan’s goalie launched the ball back into play _again_. For the _sixth time_. “Get your fucking heads out of your fucking asses and fucking _play_!”

The sound of his datapad clattering to the floor seized his attention, and fierfek, Echo was shucking Fives out of his armor, and while the lighting in the common room was pretty shitty, it was doing amazing things for the outline of Fives’s abs through his blacks.

“Think we can do it, riduur?” Echo asked, popping Fives’s neck seal. “Think we can make him forget about the game?”

Fives turned and looked Rex square in the eye. “Bet you my last three stimpacks we can.”

God _damn_ it.

Rex fucking hated his brothers. “You’re on.”

Armor scattered. The moans and wet kissing sounds grew louder and more theatrical. Rex stared at the screen, wishing like he wished for air support in trench warfare that his peripheral vision would spontaneously give out. He wasn’t--Fives and Echo weren’t exactly his first choice, but he did feel proprietary toward them, and fuckssakes it’d been a long goddamn time since he’d let himself get laid.

Alderaan’s defense really was spectacular, this year.

Other eyes in the room were starting to take notice. Jesse was peeping around the door to the showers, and the discussion in Bunkroom 1 over Kuati vs Calamari engineering, that had been going on for an unholy amount of time, had finally gone silent. Fucking in the common room wasn’t _not_ done, per se, but it also didn’t usually happen on the center table between two ARCs daring the company captain that they could break him away from his cherished limmie broadcast.

“Come on, chakaar,” Fives mumbled into Echo’s cheek, yanking at his plates. “I’m not gonna be the only one baring ass.”

“Gonna fuck yours,” Echo replied, and really, it was poetry. “Right here on this table, Rex and all of Torrent’s gonna watch. Spread these cheeks--” he clenched a hand in Fives’s ass, “--lube you up nice and slow, fuck you hard and make a mess out of you.”

That was. Rex swallowed and shifted in his chair.

Genduli had the ball. He was the best forward Fondor had had in seven years, if he could get around the Yatsen twins then maybe Fondor had a chance at the cup--

“Little _Gods_ ,” Fives choked, and Rex’s eyes flicked over despite himself. Echo had peeled open Fives’s blacks and latched onto his nipple, and all the hairs on Rex’s body stood on end. All the clones had sensitive nipples. Rex had seen a brother come from getting his nipples sucked once, completely untouched, just two mouths on his chest. 

His skin immediately shrank two sizes, and his cock grew at least three. _Genduli, Morenno, Siesen, Po Dunh, Orthelle, Waterfoot--_

A sharp crack of plastoid on plastoid and the entire table shifted a meter over. 

“Fierfek, watch it!” 

Echo looked up from where he'd buried his face in Fives’s chest. “Sorry, sir. Fondor still losing?”

“No, they kriffing aren't, they’ll pull through!”

“What's the score?”

Rex glared. “Two to one, Alderaan.”

Fives stifled a giggle. “We’re gonna have to work harder, ner vod.” He wriggled his hands under Echo’s skidplate and yanked, grinding their codpieces together and fucking _stars_ , how were they not crying in pain? Phase II armor was better on that front, but there was still barely enough room for a soft cock, let alone a hard one, even without grinding into things. Rex would know. He was seriously contemplating reaching down and shifting himself around, and the only thing that held him back was the knowledge that if his hard-on hurt less, he'd be twice as likely to lose the bet.

Not that it was looking good on that front. He’d chew his tongue off before he admitted it, but his judgment turned off when his libido turned on, and Fives and Echo were winding him up better than they ever had. Fuckers. He'd missed the past two plays.

Three stimpacks wasn't the worst price to pay, and maybe he could still find a way to put his idiot little brothers in their place.

He waited, though. Bided his time. A plan was forming in his mind, hormone-soaked and blistering, but the moment wasn't right. He gazed helplessly at the screen, the tiny figures like painted chips of plastoid zipping to and fro across the field, and he couldn't have said what was going on if you'd paid him hard credits. Fucking cocksure little ARCs.

Fives and Echo were still putting on their best show, teasing off armor, hitting hotspots and writhing, clenching their muscles for Rex to see. Rex kept his eyes on the holoscreen. They didn't know it yet, but the balance of power had shifted.

As soon as they popped off their codpieces and bared cock to air, Rex made his move. He stood in a rush, lunging out of his chair and grabbing Echo by the scruff of his neck. Bad form, to pull that on an ARC; Echo tried instinctively to deck him, but Rex was ARC-trained too, and he’d been fighting longer. He blocked Echo’s strike and spun him around, pinning him to the table next to Fives. _Victory_. He celebrated by kissing Echo, punishing and claiming, the firm give of Echo’s chest against his fingers lighting up his brain, the rasp of his stubble against Rex’s lips shooting fire down his spine. Echo arched up into it, whimpering; Fives, abandoned, pushed himself up, the side of his chest just visible in Rex’s peripheral vision: his nipples were red and puffy, his ribs scored by nail tracks.

Echo had worked him over good. But now, it was Rex’s turn.

“Lie back down,” he ordered, prying himself off Echo. He moved his hand to Fives’s chest and pushed him back to the table with a heavy thump. Fives’s eyes were wide, his pupils blown. Rex took a moment to look at the both of them, splayed out for him, quivering with restraint. They’d both gone silent, watching him, waiting for his next move. Rex took his time. A tiny drop of precome bubbled up on the tip of Echo’s cock; Rex watched it quiver, his own cock fattening up against the unforgiving ridges of his armor. Then Echo shuddered, and the drop spilled down his shaft. He gave a weak moan, his head thunking back to the table.

Fierfek, they were doing half the work for him.

“--Fjaarsen reaches for the ball, but Genduli passes to Morenno and Morenno kicks it through! Gooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!”

Rex smiled, dark and sharp. “It’s a tie, little brothers, where’re your gods now?” He dragged Echo off the table and onto his knees before Fives. “You said you were gonna wreck him, so wreck him.” He wove his fingers through Echo’s hair, and he watched goosebumps break out over his shoulders.

“Yes, sir,” Echo breathed.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Fives said, his voice a strained squeak, his hips stuttering up.

“None of that,” Rex cut in, and dragged his hand down Fives’s chest--digging in his nails and leaving his own marks--to press his hips down into the table. His hand was so close to the root of Fives’s cock he could feel the heat radiating off it. Fives whimpered, his muscles bunching beneath Rex’s hand, and _fuck_ , Rex had always known these two di’kut’ike would be the death of him, but he hadn’t expected it to happen in the fucking common room on downtime.

“Suck him off nice and slow,” Rex said to Echo. “No hands.”

Echo followed orders, like a good soldier. Just the tip of Fives’s cock, at first, suckling gently; Fives gave a low, guttural keen, his back arching off the table, and Rex fought not to show the vivid sense memory that pooled in his balls and tingled in his cramped, pinched dick of a hot, slick mouth taking him in. More brothers were watching them, now, and Rex had a reputation to maintain. He kicked aside one of the scattered plates at his feet and shifted his weight, to ease some of the pinching.

In the background, the holoscreen flickered as the camera panned over the stands, fans waving hand-painted banners and blowing plastic horns loud enough to split the aural organs of beings three planets away.

Still a tie. Rex was sweating like a nervous shiny in the hotseat, but he’d be damned if he didn’t have a point to make.

Fives was making sharp, gritted sounds, his muscles locked to keep from moving; Echo’s hands were clamped on his own thighs, his fingers white and bloodless from the strength of his grip. He’d taken almost all of Fives’s cock, save for the last couple inches; he was bobbing his head, maintaining a slow, aching pace, spit and precome slicking his lips and chin. His breath was ragged and humid over Rex’s fingers.

Rex didn’t especially incline their way, but Little Gods, he was only flesh and blood.

 _Almost there_. If there was one thing Rex knew, it was what a clone looked like when he was about to shoot. Fives was getting close: his eyes were glassy, his cheeks darkening with a flush; Echo’s head was in the way, but from what Rex could see of his balls, they were drawing up tight. Timing was everything, didn’t matter if it was the battlefield or fucking around.

Fives gave a deep, shaky gasp, his mouth falling open. _Now_. Rex dragged Echo off him, then grabbed Fives by the open collar of his blacks and hauled him up into a kiss. His squeal was muffled against Rex’s lips, but his entire body spasmed, rattling the table. Echo exclaimed behind them; Fives, though, he was so out of it he barely kissed Rex back. He clutched at Rex’s arms and he shook, and hot satisfaction scalded through Rex’s veins when he went boneless. He eased his little brother back down to the table. The flush had spread down Fives’s chest, rosy and golden beneath the bronze of his sweat-slicked skin. The smell of come was thick in the air.

“One down,” Rex said, his voice scraping its lowest registers, rumbling in his chest. Fives shivered through the aftershocks. Wrecked, but he'd pull through. Rex turned to the other idiot who’d claimed his attention.

Echo, he was a picture. Shaking, sweaty, his blacks hanging loose about his hips and his cock jutting out like an accusation. And Fives’s load had caught him straight in the face. He looked up through his white-speckled lashes at Rex, though not with any kind of artifice--that had been burned out of him by unfiltered lust. Rather, he looked imploring.

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking.

Rex’s cock would never forgive him. He'd have a permanent bow to the left for the rest of his life every time he popped wood.

“I know I taught you better weapons maintenance than that,” Rex said, nodding to Echo’s neglected, blood-heavy cock.

Echo pried a hand off his thigh and took hold of himself. His eyelids fluttered, and he swayed as his hips rocked forward. Rex watched. They wanted him to watch, so he’d watch, and Echo blushed scarlet beneath the weight of his gaze. His hand moved faster over his cock. He twisted _just so_ around the head; every brother Rex had caught with his hands down his pants, himself included, did the exact same twist, hitting the sensitive spot near the slit, and pinching the foreskin at the end of the tug. The swollen red head appeared and disappeared in Echo's grip, swallowed by his foreskin before baring all, slick and tender, once more to the room. Rex hadn’t been this transfixed by a handjob since he was seven and so horny he could come in full armor just at the press of a hand against his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a brother pull himself out of his dress grays and take himself in hand; he wasn’t the only one. Those disinterested in the proceedings had moved elsewhere; those still in the common room were taking an active role as audience, and it lit a fire under Rex’s skin just as much as Echo’s pained face did. He stepped forward, advancing on him like a nexu on its prey, and Echo’s eyes widened. Rex reached down and laid his hand over Echo’s chest, an inverted mirror--an _echo_ \--of the handprint he’d left on his armor.

“Now,” Rex said.

Compared to Fives, he was silent. A few stuttering breaths, deafening in the hush, and a small, broken sound almost drowned out by the splatter of his load on the floor. Rex stove off a laugh. Kix was gonna fucking kill all three of them, slowly, and then bring them back just to make them scrub the floor with toothbrushes.

The sight of Echo’s cock spitting come almost made it worthwhile.

Rex took a step back, his role complete as far as he was concerned. His datapad was half-buried under someone’s pauldrons. He wasn't giving these fuckers the satisfaction of--

“We’re not done with you, sir.” Fives had pushed himself up, and he threw the balled-up top of his blacks to the floor as Rex watched. He slid off the table and stood, getting right up in Rex’s personal space--half challenge, half intimacy.

“Stand down, soldier,” Rex said, but it scarcely came out as an order: the smell of Fives’s sweat rerouted circuits in his brain, and his voice shook.

Fives raised a brow, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he reached down and pressed a hand against Rex’s codpiece.

That was all it took. Rex buckled, and only Fives’s grip on his arm kept him from dropping to the deck like a sack of blasters.

“Easy, easy,” Fives said, wrapping a hand around the back of Rex’s neck. Rex didn't come from it, he wasn't a cadet anymore, but it was a near thing. He was shaking, he felt the sharp-edged hollowness inside that left his limbs trembling with want.

“You took care of us, now it's our turn,” Fives was saying, pressing his forehead to Rex’s and whispering in the air between them. He kicked at Echo, who was still kneeling, half in a daze.

Rex, he--normally he would have hated this, he didn't like lowering his guard in front of his men, he had an image to maintain--but he was almost hard enough to pop off his codpiece, and these were his _brothers_ , if he couldn't let his guard down with them who _could_ he--

The click of his armor clamps releasing drove all his thoughts away, and a reedy groan fell out of his mouth as his cock filled out. It was like stretching a cramped muscle, only eight times as good. Echo was back in action, still on his knees, and he set Rex’s codpiece aside as carefully as if it was a regs manual. He didn’t take anything else off, not even Rex’s utility belt; Fives, meanwhile, eased open his blacks. Rex’s skin crawled with want, he wanted their hands on _all_ of him, he wanted to feel the imprint of their fingers for days--but he was two seconds away from blowing his load, and a damping layer of fabric and armor between him and their hands, and a little distance to cool down, would do wonders for his shredded stamina.

He had an _image_ to maintain, and Torrent was watching.

“On your knees,” he said to Fives, his voice as ragged as his composure.

Fives froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening, then he lowered himself down, never once breaking Rex’s gaze. His cock was still flopped out against his blacks-covered thigh; it gave a heavy, sluggish twitch as Rex watched, and Fives’s abs rippled in sympathy. He wasn’t getting hard again, not any time soon, but it wouldn’t be through lack of trying.

“Both of us?” he asked.

Rex was pretty sure human body heat couldn’t melt plastoid, but he was pretty sure he’d passed human standards about ten minutes back. “Use your mouths,” he rasped. He hadn’t even known he wanted it until the thought popped into his head, and now he wanted it so badly his balls clenched in anticipation, and a bubble of precome pushed its way out of him.

Echo made the first move, as usual. He leaned forward and lapped delicately at the head of Rex’s cock--licking up the precome, his tongue hot and slick and enough to make Rex’s breath stutter and his hips drive forward. Fives grabbed him by the kama, restraining him, and _fuck_ they’d never let him live that down. A heartbeat later he didn’t have room for any kind of regret because Echo had swallowed him down to the root. Emphasis on swallowed: Rex could feel the muscles in his throat working around his cockhead, hotter than the reactor plant, and stars and planets, it was all Rex could do to brace himself against Echo’s shoulders and hold on.

“ _Fierfek_ ,” he gasped.

Then Echo was gone, the chill of the room startling against Rex’s spit-wet shaft, before Fives took his place. Rex’s knees wobbled. Fives didn’t take all of him, just the head, but his tongue swirled over the slit and nailed the hotspot. Precome kept a steady trickle out Rex’s cock, and Fives drank it down, and Rex was going to _die_.

His world narrowed down to the pulse of blood, the pooling heat in the base of his spine. He wasn’t going to last very long. 

Fives and Echo started making out over his cockhead, alternating sloppy, wet kisses with maddeningly slow trails of their tongues and lips over his sensitive flesh. Fives was sidetracked for a moment with cleaning his load off Echo’s face, bracing himself against Rex’s thigh to reach, and Echo leaned into him, Rex’s cock resting, temporarily forgotten, against his cheek. Rex couldn’t help the way he rocked forward, pulling against the grain of Echo’s stubble. Sparks of overstimulation ran down his shaft; he thought he could probably come from the memory of stubble rasping against his cock for the rest of his life.

Yeah. Not long at all.

He tore his gaze away from them in a desperate attempt to hold on just a little longer. The number of naked cocks among those watching them wasn’t any help at all; his only recourse was the holoscreen, broadcasting the final minutes of the match. Rex threaded his hands through Echo’s and Fives’s hair to keep his balance. It was amazing how much lust wiped his brain. He could recite team stats in his sleep, but now he could barely recognize the players, and they were fucking _numbered_.

Cascades of thoughts spilled through Rex’s mind, discordant, unconnected: fucking Echo’s throat; what they must look like to the watchers, two stripped-down ARCs, muscled and powerful, kneeling before a mere infantry captain; what if his datapad was broken; the memory of Fives’s body heat and breath on his face; oh _shit_ , Genduli was making a run for it--

His balls tightened up. Rex’s hands tightened in response, transfixed between the holoscreen and whoever was doing _that_ to his cock. Fives made a displeased sound; Rex frantically let go of his hair, dropping his hand to the back of his neck instead. “I’m coming,” he said. The hot tide was already rising, his muscles clenching in anticipation, his hips thrusting forward.

Fives took the initiative and sucked hard on the head, peering up at Rex, and that was _it_ , Rex was coming so hard he could only breathe in short, cut-off pants. The world sharpened, just the heat of Fives’s mouth and--

“Genduli scores! Gooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!”

He started laughing, hysterical, jerky laughter, giddy and high on endorphins, bent over Fives’s head and braced against his shoulder. “They’re ahead, sith-fucking Force, Fondor’s ahead--”

“Are you _serious_!” Echo demanded, but Fives shut him up with a kiss--no, sithspit, not a kiss, Fives dragged him down and that was Rex’s _come_ he was pushing into Echo’s mouth, a dribble of it slicking down their chins, and that image alone sent a wrenching aftershock through Rex’s balls, and he striped a last, weak blurt across Fives’s neck.

“What is _wrong_ with you two,” he gasped as Echo rolled Rex’s come around in his mouth. Where had they _learned_ that, it definitely hadn’t been in the ARC training course when _Rex_ had cycled through.

Both of them looked up at him, heavy-lidded. Echo swallowed. Rex might have tried coming again, but his balls were unclenching, his cock sagging as if embarrassed, and he was _done_. Fives wiped the stripe off his neck and licked it down, and honestly, Rex couldn’t handle this right now. He wondered if Cody ever had to deal with shit like this.

He sank to his knees, the clack of his poleyns against ship lino overloud to his ears. He braced his arms over their shoulders, trailing his fingers across naked skin. They shared a moment of shell-shocked quiet.

“Fondor’s winning,” Rex finally said. “You owe me three stimpacks.”

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> Happy early 6/6, everyone! Have some porn!
> 
> (You can find me [here](http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/post/174614028199/morale-welfare-and-recreation-kaasknot-star) on tumblr, I mostly reblog clones and shitposts :P)


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